


Tangled

by Chrmdpoet



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, F/F, Femslash, Punky Monkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:05:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2758985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrmdpoet/pseuds/Chrmdpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are trapped in the moment, ensnared in this strange sort of electric tension that borders on pain as it pulls and sparks across the small spaces between their bodies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for one of my Tumblr Trope Prompts, using the "Accidental Stimulation" trope. Enjoy!

They roll toward the center of the bed at the same time, as if even in sleep their bodies are instinctively in sync. Sarah’s face presses into her pillow, just at the edge, a breath away from Cosima’s furrowed brow.

Cosima shuffles closer, her body seeking the warmth it senses so near yet still too far, and then they are touching.

It’s natural, Cosima’s body so accustomed to wrapping around and entangling with another that she sleeps soundly through the shift. Her arm snakes around Sarah’s waist, hand tangling in the back of Sarah’s t-shirt, and her thigh slips between Sarah’s legs.

Sarah’s legs part easily for the invasion of Cosima’s thigh, and she lets out a soft sigh in her sleep. The slight stir of sensation between her legs isn’t quite enough to wake her, but makes her warm and wanting all the same. She shifts, moving closer, her breathing slightly shallower, and Cosima presses in more firmly, wrapping tighter and humming in her sleep.

Sarah’s lashes flutter at the base of closed eyes as her dreams turn hot and languid, a tug persisting deep in her abdomen when Cosima’s thigh presses more firmly between her legs, shifts forward, backward, and then settles. Sarah’s hips jerk of their own accord, grinding down but gently, her lips parting as she sucks in a sharp breath.

"Mm," Cosima hums, nuzzling her nose against Sarah’s chest. She hovers somewhere between waking and dreaming, and everything feels warm and hazy as she presses her lips to flesh, once, twice. This is nice, she thinks, and snuggles closer, scratching her nails down the naked flesh of a shuddering back.

Sarah’s body lurches forward, back bowing out, and then her eyes snap open. She sucks in a soft gasp as her eyes adjust to the shadows and reality seeps rapidly in on her. 

Dreads rub against the bottom of her chin, and lips press to her chest as a thigh slips against her now throbbing clit, and Sarah’s head is spinning. 

"Fuck," she gasps, her hand flying up to clench around Cosima’s bicep, and then she feels the body against hers stiffen and still.

Cosima slowly shifts back, hand inching away from Sarah’s bowing back and halting on the curve of her hip. Wide and wondering eyes come up to lock onto hers, and they stare at one another, Cosima’s thigh still pressed against the heat between Sarah’s legs.

"Cos," Sarah whispers, and it comes out ragged and raw, lower than she expects and hotter than she cares to contemplate. She can see the way it affects her clone though, Cosima’s tongue darting out in a swift swipe across a bottom lip and her gaze flicking rapidly back and forth between Sarah’s eyes and mouth.

Whatever this is, Sarah thinks it shouldn’t be happening. She doesn’t understand it beyond her body’s basic reaction to friction, but she somehow doesn’t care. As much as she thinks it shouldn’t be happening, she can’t actually conjure up a reason as to why.

And she can’t look away. She is frozen in the path of Cosima’s gaze and she feels like she can’t breathe. She thinks maybe Cosima can’t either.

They are trapped in the moment, ensnared in this strange sort of electric tension that borders on pain as it pulls and sparks across the small spaces between their bodies.

Cosima stares at her, her own body sparking to life through the quickly fading haze of sleep, and she feels the urge to press in harder. That urge shocks her and confuses her and fucking thrills her, and she can’t even begin to contemplate any of the whys.

"I …" she tries, but her voice is hoarse with sleep, croaking and dying in her throat, and she doesn’t have words anyway. She has no idea what she even planned to say, because the only thing filling her mind in this one strange, burning moment is the rush of fluid she can feel pressing against her thigh through Sarah’s thin shorts, and her head is a mess because of it.

Sarah nods against her pillow, and neither one of them has any clue what it means, but then they shift.

It’s simultaneous like before, instinctual, swift.

Their mouths meld together, a hard press and then a melting union of wet skin and stifled sound clawing up from the coiling desire below.

Cosima’s thigh jerks between Sarah’s legs and the breath slams from Sarah’s lungs, a hard gushing shot across Cosima’s lips, and then they are grinding.

The rhythm is natural, easy, as if they have been doing this for years, and Cosima’s mouth sucks at Sarah’s neck like she knows it, like she’s mapped the flesh before. Sarah vibrates with every wet press and pull.

Breath sucks in strained, leaves swiftly, and burns with every entry and exit as they explore the salt and sweat of goose-pimpled flesh. Fingers glide, press, dip in and come out coated.

When they collapse in the dark, they remain tangled, trembling.


End file.
